Richard Prior went to Wales a couple of times during his lifetime. He always had some kind of complaint when he'd get back - either the water was too cold or his feet didn't get enough coverage in the bed in the hotel room, it's honestly obnoxious to hear about. Being a friend of Richard Prior, and I know I'm speaking for the rest of his other friends, what we actually do not look forward to another one of his vacation ideas, due to the reasons I've stated above. You'd think vacation would be something someone enjoys and they'd find themselves relieved from stress, but not Mr. Richard Prior. He's always been a backwards kind of guy. I remember the time in the dumpsters near the old warehouse, I wanted to jump out of them, and he wanted to jump in them - backwards. Backwards, broken knees and non-multi-functional rigid entities, floating above our heads. That's when Richard Prior began speaking with ghosts. It seemed that no matter where Richard went, ghosts seemed to follow him. He'd be purchasing nails at a local, family owned hardware store where that bastard MILTON works. Lemmie tell you something about Milton - Milton's an asshole. Whenever I needed him to cover for me at work, he'd always come up with some lame excuse; "There's no one to watch my dying grandma" was a famous one. He used this almost every single time I asked him out for a cup of coffee. A portal has just appeared in front of me, in the form of an oversized smoke alarm. Everybody, quickly, jump into your smoke alarms.
Everything you'll need
3:49 p.m.//01.16.05
Mood: Placid
Whereabouts: Pete's livingroom
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